


He Who Wants To Be King

by The_Dancing_Walrus



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cultural Differences, Erik Killmonger Grows up in Wakanda, Family, Gen, Loyalty, Politics, and also superheroing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-04-26 20:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14409807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dancing_Walrus/pseuds/The_Dancing_Walrus
Summary: “Do you know your true name?” Uncle James breathes in a language Erik has only ever heard his father speak.“N’Jadaka.” Erik murmurs and though it is his name it seems strange on his tongue.Uncle James pulls him close and hugs him tight.“Your father betrayed Wakanda.” Uncle James says softly. “And I am sorry for that. But your King is here. He would take you home.”There’s a pause, a moment, when Uncle James pulls back and where he could have objected or pulled away or demanded his mother.Instead Erik stays, looking at his Uncle James with new eyes.Uncle James gets to his feet. Erik takes his hand. He leads Erik back into the apartment block and up towards the roof.-In which N'Jadaka grows up in Wakanda, learns different lessons, joins the Dogs of War and finds his loyalties tested in different ways.





	1. Mate Masie

**Author's Note:**

> Mate Masie: What I hear I keep.
> 
> http://adinkra.org/htmls/adinkra/mate.htm

 

Erik’s seven the night his uncle kills his father.

 

He catches a brief glimpse of the jet coming in and then Uncle James rushes out into the street looking like the world’s ended. Uncle James calls him over and he goes because it sounds like something’s breaking.

 

Like something’s ending.

 

Uncle James crouches down in the street, his massive hands on Erik’s shoulders. There are tears in his eyes and Erik thinks he knows where this is going.

 

He’s half right.

 

Uncle James takes a deep breath.

 

“Your father’s dead.” He says in a desperate whisper and Erik knows, from the look on his face, the sound of his voice, the weight of his hands on Erik’s shoulders –

 

Erik knows.

 

“Did he tell you about his country?”

 

Erik almost says ‘no’. His father would have wanted him to say ‘no’.

 

But he looks at the tears in Uncle James’ eyes and up towards the jet he can’t see.

 

Erik nods. And then he pulls down his lower lip.

 

There’s a moment of stillness before Uncle James does the same. The blue shines back at Erik, a language he can’t read easily yet. And it means-

 

_“Do you know your true name?”_ Uncle James breathes in a language Erik has only ever heard his father speak.

 

“N’Jadaka.” Erik murmurs and though it is his name it seems strange on his tongue.

 

Uncle James pulls him close and hugs him tight.

 

“ _Your father betrayed Wakanda.”_ Uncle James says softly. “ _And I am sorry for that. But your King is here. He would take you home.”_

 

There’s a pause, a moment, when Uncle James pulls back and where he could have objected or pulled away or demanded his mother.

 

Instead Erik stays, looking at his Uncle James with new eyes.

 

Uncle James gets to his feet. Erik takes his hand. He leads Erik back into the apartment block and up towards the roof.

 

They don’t stop.

 

“ _Uncle,”_ Erik finds himself asking tentatively. “ _What’s your true name?”_

 

Uncle James smiles sadly down at him. “Zuri.”

 

-

 

When they reach the jet the Dora Milaje stand at attention.

 

He kneels clumsily before the King and the King stoops to raise him up.

 

_“My nephew I am sorry.”_

 

The jet vanishes into a dull sky, shoots like a rocket across an ocean and half a continent. It slows with the sunrise over the Wakandan gorge.

 

Erik’s father was right. Wakanda is the most beautiful place on earth.

 

No one calls him Erik again for a long time.

 

-

 

He is N’Jadaka son of N’Jobu, of the royal line and his family wishes to take care of him.

 

His Uncle is the King, wise and strong and as perfect as his father’s fairy tales.

 

His Aunty is beautiful and statuesque, effortlessly proud. She holds him close and takes him into her family as if he was her own.

 

His cousin is three years younger and he seems so small. N’Jadaka worries every bump or scrape might break him utterly and N’Jadaka worries even more about words.

 

N’Jadaka has seen how cruel the world can be and his little cousin has only known paradise.

 

How will he ever withstand the world outside?

 

-

 

He doesn’t fear half so much for Shuri when she is born. She is fearless and strong as vibranium from the moment she takes her first breath.

 

As she gets older he knows she sees it too, her brother’s softness.

 

And it is not a weakness; N’Jadaka knows (as Shuri will one day) that it will make T’Challa a great king.

 

But it is a vulnerability, a spot an enemy might strike.

 

Somehow, silently, they both decide to be T’Challa’s shield.

 

-

 

Wakanda is beautiful and he loves his country with all his heart.

 

Wakanda is difficult because he is not _of_ a tribe. Because his father’s language sits strangely on his own tongue. Because he grew in another continent and it creeps into his movement, his tastes, his manner in strange ways, ways he can’t predict or control.

 

Try as he might he can’t make his wrapper sit right.

 

So N’Jadaka tries harder.

 

He attacks his studies with the fury of a Jabari chief.

 

He watches born Wakandans closely. He forces their motions on his body. He learns to love as they do. He ties the knots in his robes until they fall with military precision.

 

He excises the American from his tongue like a ritual scar he is too young to take.

 

He tells himself his father would be proud.

 

-

 

His father was a traitor. N’Jadaka knows that.

 

And his father was a good man. N’Jadaka knows that too.

 

His Uncle is honest enough to tell him all about his father’s crimes. N’Jadaka uses his kimoyo beads to dig up everything he can on the attacks, on Klaue.

 

His father disobeyed the King.

 

But in this, a treacherous voice tells him, his father was not wrong. How can it be unjust to help others in need? How could the King not see-

 

It takes time but gradually N’Jadaka finds his father’s flaw, so obvious he’d overlooked it.

 

He killed Wakandans.

 

N’Jadaka thinks of the deaths in Klaue’s explosions, the losses to the border tribe and he feels the tears he wouldn’t let himself shed for his father well back up to his eyes.

 

His father _was_ a traitor.

 

“ _Cousin?”_ T’Challa’s small voice startles him and N’Jadaka wipes his eyes too late.

 

“ _Cousin what is wrong? Are you hurt? Shall I get mother?”_

 

T’Challa’s small hands take N’Jadaka’s and he looks so concerned, so sincere that N’Jadaka feels as though his heart might burst.

 

“ _No.”_ He murmurs. “ _No do not disturb your mother. I am fine cousin, truly.”_

 

He lets T’Challa pull him into a hug and run small hands into his hair. The braids travel straight back from his scalp to his neck then curl, like the ceremonial dress of the Dogs of War –

 

“ _Why were you crying umzala?”_

 

N’Jadaka sighs. He taps the kimoyo and brings up images of the explosion.

 

“ _I was reading about the attack. So many people died.”_

 

Both of these statements are perfectly true.

 

T’Challa’s face turns even softer and he nods. “ _W’Kabi’s parents died.”_

 

_“Yes.”_ N’Jadaka agrees. “ _It was a terrible thing. We must make sure it never happens again.”_

 

-

 

He turns fifteen and he wants with all his heart to join the War Dogs but his Uncle will not let him.

 

_“Ndiyacela! Ndiyacela malume! Kumkani wam!”_

 

_“Enough!”_ His Uncle thunders and N’Jadaka’s head falls automatically to stare at his sandals.

 

“ _Enough.”_ His Uncle says more gently. “ _Boy you are too young-”_

 

“ _Dora Milaje train at fourteen.”_ A fact N’Jadaka has known since he was six.

 

“ _It is dangerous-”_

 

“ _It is the duty of the warriors to face the world’s dangers for the people, for the tribe, for Wakanda.”_ N’Jadaka responds automatically, still considering his feet. “ _They are the shield of the nation.”_

 

“ _Son –”_ His Uncle puts his hands on N’Jadaka’s fast growing shoulders and shakes him gently.

 

 N’Jadaka looks up, stubborn as a Jabari and his Uncle sighs.

 

“ _I want to Uncle.”_ He says simply. “ _Please.”_

 

His Uncle sighs again but this time he looks ready to listen. They sit and N’Jadaka’s hands curl on his knees as he tries to find words.

 

“ _Why do you want to be a Dog of War?”_

 

“ _I want to serve Wakanda and my King.”_

 

“ _You could serve Wakanda just as well on another path.”_ His Uncle states. “ _Why this?”_

 

N’Jadaka swallows. He thinks of T’Challa who has grown up in paradise and seems too gentle to be true. He thinks of little W’Kabi who lost his parents on the border.

 

“ _I want to protect Wakanda, Baba. I want to protect you.”_

 

“ _Why?”_

 

N’Jadaka almost lies.

 

“ _Because my father didn’t.”_

 

His Uncle’s arms wrap around him and he holds N’Jadaka close, soothes him as he trembles which seems somehow stupid. He is too old to cry over such silly things.

 

_“You are not your father.”_ His Uncle tells him. “ _You are not bound to pay his debts.”_

 

“ _I know.”_ N’Jadaka says. “ _But Uncle, I want to.”_

 

His Uncle says nothing.

 

_“If I could I would join the Dora Milaje. But I’m not . . .”_

 

_“A woman?”_ His Uncle chuckles. “ _No. I think you would have said something if you were.”_

 

His laughter hurts. If he was not the King and not family, N’Jadaka would not bear it. This wish is too close to his heart to take laughter.

 

His Uncle sees that too late and sighs.

 

“ _They will not respect you if you do not earn your place. And you are too young.”_ He squeezes N’Jadaka’s shoulder and kisses his cheek. “ _Finish your schooling and if you want it still speak to me again_.”

 

N’Jadaka’s heart sings.

 

-

 

He attacks his books as though knowledge is a mountain he needs to dig his way through with a spade.

 

Shuri helps some times and hinders others. She takes in facts as though they’re air and keeps them significantly longer.

 

T’Challa is careful about how he learns, thoughtful. But T’Challa has time for thought.

 

N’Jadaka has no time. And it feels like every second he’s held back from his calling is another drop in a dam already full to bursting.

 

He blazes through his education at a speed his teachers find alarming and then, still not quite of age, he stands before his Uncle in a scholar’s robes, marks for science and mathematics embroidered at his shoulder.

 

His Uncle asks if he still wishes to be a Dog of War. N’Jadaka sticks out his jaw, nods.

 

After a moment and a lifetime his Uncle assents.

 

-

 

He’s smaller than every other man in his training group and smaller than many of the women too.

 

It makes the hand to hand training harder. This means he loses often.

 

And he is a traitor’s son. This means he leaves training with more bruises than he ought.

 

N’Jadaka does what he’s always done and works harder. He practices until his knees shake and his knuckles bleed. Until his technique is perfect.

 

By the time he’s stopped growing no one in his training group can touch him.

 

-

 

They are taught to mimic, to observe, to remember, to blend in and N’Jadaka finds he already knows.

 

He tries not to think about why.

 

-

 

He already has marks on his lip but he is Wakandan and rituals are important. So when the time comes N’Jadaka stands silent and unflinching under knife and needle.

 

It bleeds and it glows.

 

It marks him as Hatut Zeraze, a Dog of War.

 

His jaw is swollen and tender for three days but within a week there’s no trace of his mark at all.

 

It’s an odd thing, being so proud of something no one else can see.

 

-

 

Wakanda does not interfere in other countries' affairs. At least not obviously.

 

Her enemies may not be shot or bombed but they often suffer from ill health and a rate of accidents that is ever so slightly higher than statistically likely.

 

The rule is not inaction as his father thought. The rule is that you do not allow yourself to be detected let alone caught.

 

And N'Jadaka is good at it.

 

His first tour is Dubai and he fells slavers like lame antelope. He steals Stark weapons from all sides along what is now the boarder of Sudan and South Sudan, then buries them at sea. He makes whole squadrons of the Lord's Resistance Army vanish in the jungle and kills half a dozen of Hydra's best assassins in Liberia for getting too close to Leymah Gbowee.

 

The Dogs of War begin to call him their 'Hunter'.

 

-

 

They put him forward as the next White Wolf when he finally fixes his father's mistake. Klaue dies in Cape Town with a tumour in his pancreas the size of a fist. It takes three months.

 

When N’Jadaka comes home it seems as though he’s finally thrown off the weight of his father’s shadow.

 

No one will question his loyalty ever again.

 

And W’Kabi, who’s grown from a pretty youth into a handsome man, kisses him. Which feels like another mark of honour no one else will see.

 

-

 

T’Challa will surpass him one day but on the day N’Jadaka is made White Wolf he’s the best warrior in Wakanda.

 

There ain’t a man who can beat him.

 

(There’s one woman but he’s alright with that)

 

-

 

T’Challa grows and comes of age while the White Wolf flits around the globe, changing into someone different with every passing border.

 

And at first he comes home, basking like a snake in the light of the King’s pride.

 

But T’Challa grows, in understanding as well as stature and his cousin, his soft precious delicate little cousin, doesn’t see why Wakanda should need killers.

 

Of course he doesn’t. He’s only known paradise.

 

For a while N’Jadaka lets himself be torn between the father and the son.

 

But he can’t bring himself to argue with his cousin. He’s the White Wolf and who knows what scars he might leave?

 

He stops returning to Wakanda. He doesn’t see Shuri grow or T’Challa claim the mantle of Black Panther-

 

He doesn’t realise until later that he hasn’t left himself space to be N’Jadaka anymore.

 

-

 

And then there is Lagos.

 

-


	2. Hye won hye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hye won hye: That which does not burn  
> http://adinkra.org/htmls/adinkra/hyew.htm

He’s at the summit as his King’s aide. He’s half-sure that it happens because Ramona wants him to end this long absence. To spend time with family again.

 

Except –

 

Except his King, his Uncle, the man who has raised him from an angry American child to a proud Wakandan man stands at the podium –

 

And a rocket hits the window.

 

Everything shatters.

 

He watches T'Challa fall as if the air has rushed out of the room. He watches as the world finally twists the knife into his soft, precious, vulnerable cousin, just like he'd always known it would.

 

T'Challa folds over his father's body and cries.

 

The King is dead.

 

Oh Ancestors, the King is dead.

 

And there ain't a thing the White Wolf can do about it.

 

-

 

 

He thinks later that he could have raced out after the murderer. He probably wouldn't have been noticed.

 

He tells himself that he stayed for T'Challa. Whatever their differences his cousin _needs_ him.

 

They are all herded out by emergency services. T'Challa sits on a bench, his father's ring in his hands and a look in his eye like he can see the endless plain already. There's ash on his face, a mourning grey painted on too early.

 

The White Wolf keeps his distance but he listens while T’Challa talks to their ‘Black Widow’. He sees, from the corner of his eye, T'Challa put on his father's ring and stand as tall and proud and unshakeable as Ramona always does.

 

He thinks for a moment that T'Challa will be a good king.

 

And then he realises that T'Challa already is.

 

N'Jadaka swallows. He leans heavily against one of the park's trees and pretends that he's a poor aide trying to get his breath under control.

 

He presses the bead sewn near his collar. He breathes.

 

"Cousin," He sees T'Challa falter, just slightly. "Let me come with you."

 

Their eyes meet, a casual glance across the chaos of the street.

 

And the King nods.

 

-

  
They find Bucky Barnes because Captain Rogers does. He thinks he's being subtle as though pulling a baseball cap low somehow hides his massive shoulders. But the White Wolf has agents everywhere.   
  
They don't lose track of Rogers for an instant. They know the German police are close behind.  
  
"There." T'Challa says gesturing to a neighbouring building. "He will run there."   
  
The White Wolf smiles under his mask.  
  
They climb in silence and they wait.   
  
Through kimoyo beads they see Barnes and Rogers argue. They see the police burst in at the ground floor and then into Barnes' cramped hovel.

 

The fight spills down the stairs and it is as the King said: Barnes leaps for his freedom and races across the roof.

 

Where T'Challa is waiting for him.

 

The White Wolf's suit is blurred against the world around him, a cloak of blended colours. He hangs back and watches. It is T'Challa's vengeance they are here for, T'Challa who has the right to this man's blood. T'Challa lost his father, his King, his centre and world.

 

And N'Jadaka-

 

N'Jadaka lost-

 

The White Wolf isn't here for Barnes. He is here for Rogers, sprinting out after his friend and ready to barrel through anything that stands against him no matter how good or noble it may be.

 

But events do not unfold quite as N’Jadaka anticipated.

 

T’Challa clashes with Barnes. But the German helicopters are on the scene faster than anticipated and the White Wolf will have _words_ with the miserable dog in the armed response unit-

 

Machine gun fire peppers the roof. Above them Wilson knocks the chopper into a spin. And Barnes makes a break for the roof’s edge.

 

The White Wolf stops him.

 

His punch hits Barnes in the stomach and sends him reeling back on to the roof. T’Challa is on him again in an instant and the White Wolf steps away, another formless shadow.

 

Rogers lands on the roof as T’Challa slashes into Barnes’ flesh arm. Wilson will be circling back and the White Wolf is preparing to tackle which ever one poses the biggest problem.

 

And then Barnes punches the ground.

 

The concreate cracks under his metal fist, as if it was hit by the blast of a spear.

 

They fall.

 

-

 

The air fills with grey dust that outlines him like an artist’s pen. Wilson circles above them and Barnes tries to run for the window.

 

The White Wolf trips him and T’Challa sinks his claws in.

 

Then Rogers is hitting them like a landslide. The White Wolf tumbles through the rubble but the King- the King is _strong_ and he stands as unmoved as a mountain.

 

N’Jadaka circles the fight, landing quick vicious blows on the white men. Keeping them distracted, keeping their attention split-

 

To protect the King.

 

He didn’t-

 

Barnes lands a metal-weighted punch on his shoulder and the vibranium weave doesn’t entirely soak up the blow.

 

They’re a difficult pair, these white men. They move in tandem, in sync, balanced in a way that N’Jadaka…no longer is.

 

His little cousin fights as though he’s possessed by Bast herself. N’Jadaka feels clumsy, slow.

 

He couldn’t protect his uncle.

 

He can’t protect his cousin.

 

And that’s when the police finally catch up.

 

Men armed with primitive weapons swarm into the room. The sky fills with helicopters.

 

They all freeze.

 

N’Jadaka shakes his head. And years of training, years of striving and safety give way to a seven year old boy called Erik.

 

They are aiming **guns at _his cousin_.**

 

The White Wolf’s camouflage falls away leaving a white so bright that against the grey dust it’s almost obscene. The last piece of him capable of calculating drives him at _Barnes_ because that will distract Rogers-

 

“ _Run!”_ N’Jadaka yells in Xhosa.

 

He hits Barnes in the jaw. Rogers grabs hold of his shoulder and the police pile over them in a confused mass, staggering over uneven ground.

 

In the midst of it all T’Challa gets away.

 

-

 

He sees later just how stupid he was.

 

When they’ve taken his mask and cuffed his hands behind his back he realises what he’s done. He’s committed the ultimate sin: he has exposed the Dogs of War to outsiders.

 

The King could have taken off his mask, claimed diplomatic immunity and walked away. The King could have been dismissed as another greedy African dictator lining his own pockets with luxurious toys at his people’s expense.

 

But N’Jadaka is not the King and two vibranium suits cannot be so easily dismissed.

 

 _Rogers_ recognises his uniform for what it is and prods him with gentle questions.

 

Wilson scoffs.

 

“So. You like cats.”

 

N’Jadaka closes his eyes.

 

-

 

They take his suit which grates because Shuri made it for him. They don’t deserve to touch it.

 

They put him in a cell.

 

They keep sending in people to question him. The first one is a white man who demands to know who the White Wolf is and who he works for.

 

N’Jadaka tells him to mind his own business in Xhosa.

 

Next they send a South African. N’Jadaka tells her she’s wasting her time in Hausa.

 

So they send in a Nigerian and N’Jadaka summarises the injustices of EU trade agreements in Amharic.

 

He thinks that by the time they send the Ethiopian they are becoming frustrated.

 

And then the lights go out.

 

He takes a kimoyo bead from where it was wedged at the back of his mouth, like a wisdom tooth. He presses it against the lock and it tears through the codes like a spear through raw cotton.

 

In the dark and the confusion the White Wolf slips away.

 

-

 

Barnes will have run.

 

He knows this and the idea of Barnes escaping or facing any justice but Wakandan burns like the marks scored on his skin. He would add another for Barnes.

 

He has the kimoyo bring up the floorplan and takes in the hundreds of scattering people. Then the kimoyo focuses on the only one who has a metal arm.

 

N’Jadaka breaks into a run.

 

The kimoyo bleeps out warnings of weapon fire, primitive guns and one of Stark’s suits. The White Wolf rushes on.

 

He heads Barnes off on a mounted walkway and throws himself into the fight.

 

Barnes is stronger, tougher so the fight cannot be allowed to last. The longer it goes on the more likely Barnes will win.

 

He means to punch Barnes in the neck but Barnes shifts at the last minute. N’Jadaka’s fist hits his shoulder.

 

Nothing breaks.

 

Barnes twists. N’Jadaka ducks under a sweeping backhand to kick his knee.

 

It doesn’t break.

 

Barnes’ hook misses as the White Wolf dodges back. He just avoids a jab and punches Barnes in the ribs.

 

It’s lasting too long.

 

He gets another kick to Barnes’ knee and Barnes does not falter, he does not pause. And N’Jadaka needs to end this-

 

So he leaps for Barnes’ neck, scrabbling, nails digging in, trying to cut off blood or air.

 

He knows it’s not working at least three seconds before Barnes manages to grab his shoulder.

 

That metal hand seizes him and N’Jadaka is hurled through the air.

 

He hits a wall meters away, bruised and bloodied.

 

Barnes gets away.

 

-

 

N’Jadaka stays down.

 

He knows he won’t catch Barnes on foot, knows he can’t beat Barnes without his suit.

 

And he can’t risk leaving Wakandan technology in foreign hands.

 

The UN’s security forces circle him slowly, guns raised. N’Jadaka stares at the ceiling, at the shattered glass of the guardrails and tries not to think about the glass behind his Uncle breaking.

 

When he looks up the man who is closest to him looks-

 

He looks Kenyan and so close to the Mining Tribe that it takes N’Jadaka’s breath away. He raises his hands and watches that strange-familiar face fall into something relieved.

 

He cuffs N’Jadaka with his hands behind his back, careful that the cuffs don’t dig in.

 

He’s raised N’Jadaka to his feet when the Black Widow strides towards them. The security forces part, like civilians before the Dora Milaje.

 

“The King of Wakanda is upstairs arguing that you should have diplomatic immunity.” She tells him conversationally.

 

It’s supposed to throw him off balance, N’Jadaka knows this and yet-

 

His _stupid_ cousin. His stupid, soft, wonderful, innocent cousin.

 

“I took a look at your suit.” She says. “Vibranium weave.”

 

She pauses and N’Jadaka feels as though she can see his fists clenching behind his back.

 

The Black Widow hardens. “You want Barnes.”

 

“Yes.” The White Wolf says.

 

“The King might be able to get you out.” She admits. “Do you think you’d be able to find him on your own?”

 

 _I am not alone_ N’Jadaka thinks, but he can’t say that.

 

The Black Widow tilts her head as if she heard it anyway. “We’ll find him quicker.”

 

N’Jadaka can’t deny that. He glances down for a moment and when he looks up again the corner of the Black Widow’s lip has curled up.

 

“You think you could call your friend in black?”

 

They _will_ find Barnes more quickly-

 

After a moment The White Wolf nods and the Black Widow smiles, sharp as a panther’s claw.

 

-

 

Stark picks an airport as his battle ground. N’Jadaka is not convinced it was a wise choice.

 

It allows Wilson the air and their witch a nearly limitless supply of ammunition. The open space means Barton can fight more effectively-

 

But then Stark can fly and he’s arrogant enough to think himself the most powerful person there. Perhaps he thinks the rest of them are pawns.

 

They charge at Rogers’ motley collection of supporters and everything becomes utterly confused.

 

-

 

He loses track of Barnes and then he loses track of T’Challa.

 

Something, perhaps the witch, keeps the kimoyo from functioning as it should. There’s no clear view of the battle, just glimpses that flicker oddly along the inside of his mask, confusing more than they clarify.

 

He blurs but not well enough to vanish in the light and ends up lurching from one fight to the next.

 

The Avengers are gentle with each other. They still see misguided friends. N’Jadaka sees men and women willing to excuse his King’s murder.

 

He wants to break their bones.

 

In the mad turmoil Rogers and Barnes slip away. By the time N’Jadaka spots them T’Challa is already close behind them.

 

And it’s not that he hesitates, he just believes that T’Challa will stop their plane.

 

But he doesn’t.

 

-

 

The witch is down and the kimoyo starts working again in time for N’Jadaka to see Rhodes fall.

 

-

 

He’s not sure what drives him out after Rhodes.

 

He knows Barnes has got away and no plane in this miserable airport that N’Jadaka could quickly steal would catch him. He knows the King has a better chance of pulling information from this country’s authorities then he does.

 

And whether Rhodes knows it or not he has been injured in the service of Wakanda.

 

It is nothing to do with N’Jadaka having no desire to confront the fact his cousin failed.

 

Nothing at all.

 

When he reaches them Wilson is unconscious and Rhodes is half way there, Stark cradling him.

 

Stark raises a hand as N’Jadaka approaches and the White Wolf pulls off his mask.

 

He could lie but it has been a trying day and Stark may be arrogant but he is also extremely clever. Stark might shoot him for a lie.

 

And Rhodes might die for one.

 

For a moment N’Jadaka’s tongue stumbles trying to find its way back to truth.

 

“I can save him.” It comes out flat and devoid of accent.

 

“Listen Kitty-Cat it’s been a helluva day and I am not-”

 

“You are not _stupid_.” N’Jadaka interrupts with far more force than the words deserve. “You have seen enough by now to guess that my country has technology you do not. You have been too distracted to start reverse engineering it from what you have seen but later _your_ country will ask you to and there is a chance you will succeed.”

 

N’Jadaka sinks into a crouch, bringing himself down to Stark’s level. The man’s eyes are wide, desperate and afraid.

 

“When they ask you will tell them you failed. And I will save Rhodes.”

 

Stark’s mouth hangs open for a minute. “What, you’re just going to wave a magic wand and heal his soul and glue his spine back together?”

 

It is probably supposed to be sarcasm but it comes out weak.

 

“Yes.” N’Jadaka says.

 

Stark stares. N’Jadaka stares back.

 

After a moment Stark asks quietly, “Why do you want to help him?”

 

“He was injured fighting beside the Black Panther in an attempt to capture the man who murdered my King.”

 

Stark’s hand falls and he looks away. “Yeah. OK.”

 

N’Jadaka springs forward.

 

They pry Rhodes out of the armour, with claws and lasers. Once they have a clear view of the wound N’Jadaka pushes a kimoyo bead into it. Stark watches looking as if he might be sick.

 

N’Jadaka taps his wrist and Shuri’s face appears, grief-stricken in the air.

 

N’Jadaka swallows. “ _Cousin.”_

 

Shuri breathes as though the air is barbed. “ _What has happened?”_

 

“ _Shuri-”_

_“No do not ‘Shuri’ me. I can see your suit, what has happened?”_

 

Did you catch him, she does not say.

 

 _“One of the Americans was injured fighting for the King I-”_ N’Jadaka too, has trouble with the air. “ _He would die in their hospitals. I-would be grateful if-”_

 

“ _You want me to come to America.”_

 

N’Jadaka nods. “ _If you can not ask Okoye to-”_

 

She wipes the tears away from her eyes savagely, as though she is trying to scrub away half her face.

 

 _“I’ll do it.”_ She says and ancestors she sounds so strong.

 

Her face vanishes. Beside him Stark swallows.

 

“Who was that?”

 

“My cousin.” And then, because that is unlikely to be enough explanation he adds. “She’s a surgeon. A good one.”

 

It is far from all Shuri is, but it will do for now.

 

Stark nods, a small, tight gesture. “She looks upset.”

 

He pauses, then meets Stark’s eye. “She lost her father recently.”

 

Stark grimaces. “Sorry.”

 

They get the rest of the armour off Rhodes in pieces and put him in the recovery position. N’Jadaka has already signalled the embassy, in a few minutes a jet will arrive. Until it does there is truly nothing he can do.

 

He sits in the grass beside Stark, looking from Rhodes to Wilson. Two black men unconscious and injured because the white men they befriended are idiots.

 

Stark at least looks as though he regrets his folly. Rogers left Wilson behind.

 

“What’s your name?” Stark asks suddenly.

 

He does not hesitate and he does not know why but he says “Erik.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this update. Writing (and life) have given me more trouble than anticipated and I have a sneaking suspicion this fic is going to turn out longer than I first thought.


	3. Mmere Dane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmere Dane- Time Changes
> 
> With apologisies for the author's poor updating schedule.

They take Rhodes to the embassy and Shuri brings a hospital with her. She still has white mourning paint at her lips, her brow and tear smudged traces of it on her cheeks.

 

There are no tears now though.

 

She takes charge of Rhodes and has Erik, still in his suit, and Stark, still not entirely in control of himself, pushed out into the lobby while she takes over the first floor.

 

They sit.

 

“This shouldn’t have happened.” Stark says.

 

On that they are agreed.

 

It occurs to Erik that this is the first time he’s really stopped since- since the King-

 

“Kitty,” Stark says and it comes out serious. “Your hands are shaking.”

 

Erik balls them up to hide. He takes a deep breath to ensure his voice is steady.

 

“It’s not a cat.”

 

Stark raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? What’s it meant to be then?”

 

He could refuse to answer but Erik finds himself relenting with a sigh. “A wolf.”

 

“You have wolves in Africa?”

 

“Yes. In the mountains.”

 

They wait.

 

-

 

Eventually Shuri sends someone out to tell them Rhodes is stable. Stark leaves soon after.

 

Erik waits.

 

He does not know where his cousin is. He does not know where Barnes or Rogers are. No one _tells_ him-

 

Erik paces the Embassy corridors looking like an apparition; the white of his suit streaked in red and mourning grey. Like blood in milk, like a curse that’s learnt to walk.

 

Not knowing feels like something awful lurking in the shadows behind him. He has done _everything_ he can for his cousin and the King and yet-

 

And yet wherever he is T’Challa does not want Erik there. The White Wolf is no use to him.

 

This is failure.

 

And all Erik can do is keep waiting.

 

-

 

The Western news begins to report that Barnes was framed. Erik can not bring himself to care.

 

Shuri emerges from the upper floor and guides him off his path into a seat.

 

Erik puts his head in his hands.

 

“ _N’Jadaka.”_ She says and Erik finds that he can tell her the truth he couldn’t bear to tell T’Challa.

 

“ _I’ve failed.”_ He tells her simply.

 

Shuri hugs him close.

 

-

 

He puts together what happened afterwards from snatches and snippets.

 

The American news trumpets the capture of 'Zemo', the Sokovia Accords and fracturing of the 'Avengers'.

 

A dog in a well-known forensics lab reports that she destroyed trace evidence of vibranium on Zemo's clothes.

 

Another, as close as they could get to the detention facility that held Wilson, informs him that Rodgers came back. The prisoners are gone.

 

Shuri tells him that Barnes is in Wakanda now. In one of her facilities.

 

For _treatment_.

 

It is a good thing that tradition demands a period of mourning for the old King before the election of the new. Because Erik's anger feels as though it's leaking out of him, however much he tries to hold it in. It leaks out and poisons the air.

 

-

 

On the day of the ceremony it seems as though every person in the country has put aside mourning. Kicked it off like a worn out pair of sandals and chosen joy.

 

Everyone but Erik at least.

 

He says the right things, sings the right notes and moves as he should in the dances. But his chest is hollow. His heart is still at his Uncle's funeral plot.

 

He envies Shuri, sure and strong enough to make a joke of the most important moment in her brother's life. Her heart is large enough to hold grief and celebration side by side.

 

Erik watches impassive as T'Challa earns the throne.

 

And he feels as though his heart has shrunk so much it will never hold joy again.

 

-

 

His Cousin, the _King_ , his King-

 

T’Challa asks to speak with him alone. They meet on the high reaches of the palace, looking out over the sunset and the forest.

 

It is exactly like his first glimpse of the country. Wakanda is as radiant as ever. Wakanda has not changed.

 

Erik has.

 

And his Cousin, his wonderful, soft Cousin, standing tall and proud, like the King they always knew he could be-

 

T’Challa isn’t his father. He’s not going to be the kind of man, the kind of _King_ to smile about some of the things the White Wolf has done.

 

Erik can’t see a way this ends well.

 

T’Challa embraces him and Erik tries to steel himself. Perhaps his small, hardened heart can withstand the punishment T’Challa has planned.

 

When T’Challa releases him they both step back. For a while they simply stand and look out over their country.

 

“ _We can not hide from the rest of the world_.” T’Challa says finally. “ _Not any more_.”

 

Erik hangs his head. Before he can think of something politic to say T’Challa has turned, grasped his arms firm and familiar.

 

“ _Do not be disheartened Cousin. This was coming. We could not avoid the world forever.”_ He lets Erik go and steps back. “ _Do you remember Nakia?”_

 

She is a dog of war, of course Erik knows her.

 

“ _The girl who makes you freeze like a startled antelope?”_

 

His cousin smiles and it feels like a victory.

 

“ _She says that we can not ignore the injustice around us. Not when we are blessed with the power to help those in need. And-”_ He pauses, glances at Erik as if he is afraid of where his next words will leave them. “ _I was reminded of all you’ve said of your mother’s homeland. I feel that- perhaps now is the time to change it.”_

 

For a moment Erik feels light, as though his heart is not so constrained as he thought.

 

He dares to hope.

 

“ _Whatever you wish my King.”_ N’Jadaka says.

 

T’Challa’s hand grasps his shoulder; he gives his cousin a broad smile.

 

“ _Tomorrow you go back to America. You will sign the Sokovia accords and join their Avengers. We shall show the world all that Wakanda can achieve.”_

 

This isn’t the justice Erik longs for. It isn’t retribution.

 

It is exile.

 

And his heart sinks like a stone.


End file.
